Tactile
by pendulumprince
Summary: "Yusaku's been thinking a lot lately about the people who have shown him affection. It's always been out of trust or love or some combination of both, so why does he always freeze?" A story about physical affection; the result of an anonymous tumblr headcanon gone wild.


Tactile

He's used to being alone.

So Yusaku's mind can wander, and no one is there to pull him back. During those times he recalls the one vague memory he has: his Special Person, their effect on him so towering that their lilting voice survived his memory being razed to the ground. That voice was simply _beyond_ the effects of his brutalization.

He can't put a name to the voice, but he knows whoever it was _loved_ him. Of course _they_ would want to lace their fingers with his, nuzzle against his cheek, kiss his neck and his collarbone. He would gladly allow it, and anything else his Special Person wanted to do to him.

That voice is one of unconditional love.

* * *

But in the real world, it begins with Shima Naoki throwing his heavy arm over Yusaku's shoulders.

He's grinning, relived they actually passed that history test they both should have failed. Yusaku freezes while Naoki yaps on, but he doesn't move away. It's _nice_ —his arm is soft, and his body is warm. He's so close that Yusaku can smell the soap on Naoki's skin.

 _What are you doing_ , he wonders, halfway temped to ask Naoki what conditioner he uses. _Why are you touching me?_

* * *

After that is Go, the next time he sees him after dueling an uncharacteristically skilled Knight. He throws his arms around Yusaku and presses him against his chest. Yusaku freezes again, and unlike Naoki, Go catches the signal pulls away a moment later. He apologizes, says he got caught up in the moment, he's just so _happy_ he's okay—

It startles Yusaku to know that Go touched him out of _happiness._ He kicks himself, wishing he could have a do-over. _Do that again, Go,_ he silently begs, even the voice in his head sounding uncharacteristically small. _Pull me into your arms. I promise I'll do my best to… to—!_

* * *

Next is Aoi. It's a happy accident.

Before they'd met, a private chauffeur had always driven her to and from school. But then they became friends, and after Yusaku refused to allow her driver take him places, she began to take the train with him.

He's proud of how far his girl has come. Long past are the days when she was afraid to touch anything in the subway and soaked her hands with sanitizer every few minutes. At this rate, Yusaku figures he _might_ be able to show her his apartment one day.

But since she's taken on his crusade as her own, she hardly ever sleeps. So he doesn't know why it surprises him when she nods off on the train ride home one day, her head falling on his shoulder in all it's dead weight.

Yusaku freezes. He debates whether he should wake her. Her head is sort of heavy, but her hair smells like blueberries. He likes the way her auburn hair looks fanned out across his blazer. Their arms are touching, and he adjusts his breathing to be in time with hers.

 _She's just tired._ He decides not to disturb her—her exhaustion is his fault, anyway.

* * *

Yusaku passes out one day.

He hasn't eaten anything in about a day and a half, his stomach so twisted up thinking about everything that he couldn't muster up the strength to eat. Sometimes just the _thought_ of food invokes a sick, sad churning in the pit of his stomach. He wishes he could be like Aoi, who eats excessively; or like Go, who controls everything he eats down to the last calorie. Not like this. He feels so pathetic.

He wakes up in the back of Shoichi's hotdog truck, laid out on the cot his friend sleeps on at night. Shoichi is sitting next to him, running his fingers through Yusaku's hair, humming softly, and all these sensations feel so painfully _familiar._ Suddenly, Shoichi pulls his hand away, his face twisted up in concern. He asks Yusaku why he's crying.

That only makes Yusaku feel worse—he didn't want Shoich to stop, it felt so _nice_ —so he does his best to settle his features. "No reason. I'm fine," he lies.

* * *

Yusaku initiates The Big One, and it's with Ignis.

Because _of course_ his flighty partner went and got himself captured. All it took was one argument, and he ran blindly into Revolver's arms. Yusaku is angry at Ignis, but more so at himself, because maybe if he'd treated Ignis better he wouldn't have run away. Yusaku thinks back to the fight that they had, the one that he instigated over _nothing_. He figures the entire debacle is his fault.

Once he beats the Knights holding him, he wastes no time grabbing his partner and logging out. Ignis is uncharacteristically quiet as they step into space between the real world and Link Vrains, totally alone save for each other.

Yusaku's been thinking a lot lately about the people who have shown him affection. It's always been out of trust or love or some combination of both, so _why does he always freeze?_ He knows he isn't alone anymore.

 _Trust and love._ He certainly feels both for Ignis, so touch would be appropriate, wouldn't it? He's holding Ignis close to his chest, but Yusaku knows that isn't enough. Physical affection should be a display of one's feelings as they _naturally_ are.

Yes, that's what the people in his life—the one's who mattered—had taught him.

So he pulls Ignis away from his chest, and picks him up so that they're at eye level. _Those gleaming yellow eyes;_ he knows he'll never find in anyone else what he sees in Ignis. So he pulls his partner to him again, kissing him along the bottom curve connecting his eyes.

When he pulls away, Ignis is _glowing,_ lit up along his pattern lines. Yusaku covers his mouth to hide his smile (and maybe his blush).

 _My partner sure is pretty._


End file.
